


(Not) Leaving on a Jet Plane

by Leslie_Knope



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chirping, Chirping During Sex, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 22:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: Derek hates flight delays as much as the next person—especially when they’re riding the edge of a winter storm, with the possibility of spending the night in O’Hare growing larger with every passing second—but admittedly, his spirits have been largely buoyed by the man next to him.Not that they’ve talked or interacted in any real way, but he’s hot as hell, probably around Derek’s age, and Derek has thoroughly enjoyed witnessing his neatly-pressed suit disintegrate piece by piece in the past two hours that they’ve been sitting next to each other.





	(Not) Leaving on a Jet Plane

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS [HAN](https://exhuastedpigeon.tumblr.com/) ♥

The intercom crackles, and just like everyone else sitting in the gate area, Derek’s attention swivels over to the podium. The young man standing there clears his throat and winces, his eyes going wide, when he notices everyone staring at him expectantly.

Being comfortable under the scrutiny of dozens of grumpy passengers should really be a requirement for that job, Derek thinks idly.

“Regarding flight 792 to Boston,” he starts, after clearing his throat again, “we’re unfortunately extending our delay as we continue to wait for our new crew to arrive. We’re now expected to board in about 90 minutes, and we’ll keep you updated.”

There’s a collective disgruntled groan, and everyone murmurs to their companions for a few seconds before settling back into their magazines and iPads.

“Fuck,” the guy next to him mutters under his breath, and Derek shoots him the type of small, commiserating smile reserved for strangers sharing logistical challenges.

Derek hates flight delays as much as the next person—especially when they’re riding the edge of a winter storm, with the possibility of spending the night in O’Hare growing larger with every passing second—but admittedly, his spirits have been largely buoyed by the man next to him.

Not that they’ve talked or interacted in any real way, but he’s hot as hell, probably around Derek’s age, and Derek has thoroughly enjoyed witnessing his neatly-pressed suit disintegrate piece by piece in the past two hours that they’ve been sitting next to each other.

He lost the jacket pretty quickly, then the tie. He undid his top two buttons a little while after that, and at the moment he’s deftly rolling up the sleeves. Derek tries not to watch because perving on someone’s forearms is pretty weird, no matter how nice they are.

And these are really nice.

Whatever.

Derek drags his eyes back to the book open on his lap and tries to concentrate. After he scans the same paragraph about seven times without absorbing everything, he gives up, slapping it shut with a huff and stuffing it back into his bag. He really needs to finish it soon so he can blurb it, but he’s just not in the mood right now.

He’s fucking antsy, that’s what he is, but he doesn’t want to get up and lose his prime seat. It isn’t too far from the gate, there’s an outlet within reach, and most importantly, it’s right next to suit guy.

Speaking of…

Derek clears his throat and leans over. “Hey, would you mind watching my stuff while I…” He trails off, gesturing to the bathroom on the other side of the concourse, and the guy looks up from the stack of papers in his lap to nod.

“Yeah, sure. The worst part of traveling alone is having to lug all your shit to the bathroom.”

“Exactly!” Derek exclaims because he’s been saying that for fucking years. “Thanks, dude.”

Derek relishes the ease of navigating the bathroom without two bags, and pastes on his best smile as he drops back down into his seat.

“Thanks. Can I return the favor?” he asks, and the guy laughs.

“I’m good now, but I’m sure I’ll take you up on that later.”

“Yeah, lord knows how we’ll be stuck here,” Derek says, and he gets a wince in return.

“Don’t remind me.”

Yeah, Derek would really rather not think about it, either. He really doesn’t believe that they’re going to be boarding in 80 minutes, but who knows.

He has zero interest in reading that novel right now, so he digs in his bag for his iPad instead. He needs something comforting to distract him, and thankfully, he had the foresight to download the latest season of Great British Bake Off before he left. Perfect.

Out of the corner of his eye, Derek can just barely see the guy next to him. And after a few minutes, he’s pretty sure that he’s watching the episode over his shoulder.

Derek finally twists around fully, raising an eyebrow, and the guy quickly drops his gaze back to his lap. “Sorry.”

His cheeks are pink, and it’s pretty much the cutest thing Derek has ever seen. He laughs and takes out his left earbud, holding it out. “No problem. You wanna watch?”

The guy hesitates, his eyes flicking to Derek’s face for a second. “You sure?”

“Definitely. It looks way more interesting than _that_ , that’s for sure.” Derek jerks his chin at the intimidatingly large stack of papers that the guy’s been reading and highlighting for the past two hours.

“Oh, no doubt.”

Derek dangles the earbud. “Here, come on. Watch cute British people make bread.”

He laughs and takes it. “Okay. Thanks.”

Derek shifts, propping his feet up on his suitcase and balancing his iPad on his thighs as he scooches a little closer. The guy slumps down a bit and leans over, nearly pressing their shoulders together, and Derek starts the episode.

“That’s Andrew,” he says after a minute, just to make conversation, because he’s the kind of person who talks through TV shows, and he hopes that this guy is, too.

“I’ve, uh, already seen this season, actually,” he says, and Derek laughs. “And I’m Will. By the way.”

“Derek,” he says, reaching over to shake Will’s proffered hand.

About halfway through the episode, Will takes out his earbud and leans down to dig through his bag. He emerges with a little packet of M&M’s and holds it up. “M&M’s?”

“Awesome, thanks.” Derek holds his hand out, and Will carefully pours some into his palm. “Wow, peanut _butter_ M &M’s. Fancy.”

They watch the whole episode and the first part of the next one, and Derek is suddenly feeling very charitable toward this whole flight delay thing. Will is funny, little dry comments that he murmurs into Derek’s ear, and the other passengers look over more than once when Derek laughs.

There’s another sharp tap on the gate area microphone, and Derek hastily pauses the episode while everyone looks up. The guy from before has been replaced with a stern-looking woman who looks like she takes precisely no shit. That’s probably not a great sign.

“Flight 792 to Boston,” she announces. “You have officially been cancelled, along with all other flights to the northeast tonight.”

The collective groan is much louder this time.

“Motherfucker,” Derek mutters as he lifts his hips to dig his phone out of his pocket. There’s already a surging mob of people around the podium, do they not know that you can rebook your reservation on your phone? He leans toward Will, who already has the airline app open and is busy swiping. “What’s the first flight you see?”

“The first one with seats open is tomorrow at…10 a.m.”

“Ugh. Could be worse, I guess.” Derek books it quickly, before it sells out like all the others. “At least that’s settled. Did you get it, too?”

Will nods, then winces as the intercom screeches again.

“As for accommodations. Unfortunately, all the closest surrounding hotels are fully booked, due to several conferences currently taking place in the area. There are some farther options, but due to the snow, we are currently awaiting the status of shuttles to take you there. We’ll keep you updated.”

Will rubs at his forehead and groans. “Jesus Christ. I am too old to sleep in an airport.”

Derek huffs a little in sympathy and twirls his phone in his hand. “So actually,” he starts. “I already have a room at the Hilton, the one here.”

Will looks over at him, his eyebrows raised. “How the hell did you manage that?”

Derek shrugs. “I knew there would be a chance we’d get stranded, so I booked one this morning, just in case.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I’m brilliant, I know,” he says with a smirk, and Will snorts. “Now, admittedly, this sounds sketchy as fuck, but you can totally stay with me if you want. The room has two queens.”

Will looks at him for a second, his head tilted, and then shrugs. “Sure, why not. You don’t look like a serial killer.”

“Likewise,” Derek says cheerfully, and Will laughs.

“You sure, though?”

“Definitely. I can’t let a fellow Bake Off fan sleep in the fucking airport, that’s like bad karma.”

Will laughs again. It’s a good laugh—genuine and deep and kind of raspy—and Derek immediately wants to hear it again.

“Okay, fair. And I really, really don’t want to spend the night in O’Hare.”

“Then let’s go.”

The airport is crowded for this time of night, with large groups of people clustered around the airline counters, and as they walk through, Derek is so, so thankful that he decided this morning the risk of wasting $250 was worth it.

The lobby of the Hilton is crowded, too, and Derek joins the line at the check-in counter.

“Can I pay for half the room?” Will asks, and Derek shakes his head.

“Nah, it’ll just be expensed, anyway, it’s fine.”

“Then at least let me buy you a drink,” he counters, jerking his chin to the bar on the other side of the lobby.

Derek pretends to consider it. “Okay, fine, twist my arm.”

Will smiles and takes a step back. “Good. I’ll go find a table.”

Derek checks in, slides the room key into his back pocket, and goes to find Will at the bar. It’s full, surprise, but he finally spots him at a high-top in the back corner.

“Lots of people drowning their sorrows,” Derek comments.

“I know, I just barely got this table.” Will stands and brushes Derek’s arm, just a ghost of a touch. “What do you want?”

“Uh…any beer that’s not an IPA.”

Will laughs and taps the table. “Got it.”

Derek has a perfect line of sight to the bar, and he watches Will lean over it and talk to the bartender. It’s a thought he has frequently, but _man_ is he glad that closely-tailored pants are in style right now.

He stops staring at Will’s ass before he turns around, thankfully, and heads back to their table with two bottles clutched in one hand.

They cheers, clinking the necks together, and Derek takes a grateful sip. He isn’t really a beer aficionado or anything, but whatever it is, it’s wheat-y and tastes good.

“So what brought you to Chicago?” he asks. “Or, uh, what’s bringing you to Boston, I guess?”

“The first one,” Will says. “I live in Boston, I was just here for work.”

“What kind of work?” Derek asks, then adds, before Will can even open his mouth, “Wait, can I guess?”

Will laughs and makes a little gesture with his hand as he takes a drink of his beer. “Sure.”

“Is it, like, super obscure?”

“No. Is this 20 questions?”

“Maybe,” Derek fires back, and Will smiles. “You were wearing a full suit earlier.”

Will lifts an eyebrow. “You noticed.”

It’s a statement, not a question, but Derek refuses to feel embarrassed. He _did_ notice, because Will is fucking hot, and he maybe doesn’t mind if Will knows that. He doesn’t look anything besides flattered, anyway, and Derekwill take that. “Yeah, so what?”

He laughs around the rim of his beer bottle and takes another sip. “So I wear a suit for work. That really narrows it down.”

“Just you wait, I rock at 20 questions.” Derek twists his mouth. “Um…consulting.”

“That’s broad, good guess. But no.”

“Am I close?” he asks, and Will makes a face.

“I mean…not really.”

“Okay.” Derek cracks his neck and pushes up the sleeves of his sweater. “Let’s see. Did you go to college?”

“Yep.”

“Something in finance!”

“No.”

“Did you go to school _beyond_ college?”

“Yes.”

“MBA?”

“Nope.”

Derek sighs and tilts his head a little as he stares at Will. Will looks back, both of his elbows braced on the table between them, and Derek idly notices the light layer of reddish stubble along his jaw. Man.

He blinks and refocuses on the game. “Okay, I’m gonna get this. Master’s degree?” he asks. Will shakes his head, and Derek hesitates for a second before grinning. He’s got this.

“Lawyer,” he says triumphantly, and Will laughs.

“You got it.”

Derek pumps his fist. “Told you. I rock at this game.”

“Very impressive,” Will admits. “What about you?”

“I live in Boston, too. I’m a writer.”

Will pretends to look offended. “You didn’t even let me play the game,” he says, and Derek laughs. “That’s cool, though. What kind of writer?”

“I’m, uh, in the middle of a YA series. I was here for a reading/signing thing.”

“Wow,” Will says, and he looks genuinely impressed. “How long is the series?”

“The third one is done, but it’s not out yet. I’m allowing myself to take a little break from thinking about the last one.”

Will nods as he takes his phone out of his pocket and starts tapping at it.

“What’re you doing?” Derek asks.

“Googling you, duh.”

Derek laughs and almost knocks over both of their beer bottles as he reaches over the table for Will, wrestling his phone out of his hands. “Stop it. You don’t even know my last name.”

“I could’ve figured it out,” Will says, even as he snatches his phone out of Derek’s grip and puts it back in his pocket. “Though I guess I should probably know the last name of the guy who invited me to his hotel room.”

“ _Wow_ , way to make it sound sleazy,” Derek says with a smirk. “And it’s Nurse, by the way. You?”

Will sighs. “Poindexter,” he says reluctantly, then holds up his hand as Derek laughs. “And I’ve heard _every_ joke, so don’t even try. I mean, at least I’ve never needed glasses.”

“Dude, you could _totally_ rock glasses,” Derek says, maybe more honest than is necessary, because all of a sudden he needs to imagine that right now.

Will sneaks a quick look up at him. “No, that seems like more your thing.”

Derek grins and wiggles his eyebrows a little as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “I usually wear contacts, but I like glasses when I travel.”

“It’s a good look,” Will says, plain and honest, and Derek swallows.

“Thanks.”

“You want another one?” Will asks, and Derek hesitates. He doesn’t exactly hate this, sitting close with his knees pressed to Will’s under the table, but considering that his other option is a hotel room…

“Uh, I could go either way. You?”

“Yeah, same. Let’s go, then, this place is pretty crowded.”

Derek nods and tips his head back to get the last couple sips from his bottle. Will sets their empties at the end of the bar, and another couple takes their table as soon as they stand up.

The elevator trip is quiet. The mood, in Derek’s head, anyway, is a weird mix between sexy—because Derek’s going up to a hotel room with a near-stranger, and that kind of scenario really only means one thing—and domestic, since they’re both pulling suitcases and have a flight in the morning.

Derek waits outside their room for a second, and then Will raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, right,” he says, flushing as he digs in his pocket for their room key. He can be smoother than this, he swears.

It’s a typical hotel room, plain and exactly the same as the dozens of others Derek has stayed in, but at least there’s the promised two beds. Will immediately drops his bag at the end of the one closer to the door, and rifles through it, coming up with what looks like pajamas and a toiletry bag, before going into the bathroom.

“Hey,” he calls out a minute later, “do you mind if I, uh, don’t have another shirt to sleep in?”

Derek laughs. “Oh my god, dude, that’s such a _line_.”

Will steps out of the bathroom with his shirt half-buttoned and an adorably indignant look on his face. His cheeks are even pink, god. It’s like looking at an adorable angry kitten. Well, a large one. Whatever.

“It’s _true_! I pack light, you wanna go through my dirty clothes? I’m already gonna have to wear this undershirt again tomorrow, I’d rather not sleep in it, too.”

Derek’s still laughing, and he shakes his head. “It’s totally fine.”

Will huffs but ducks back into the bathroom. Derek takes off his sweater and changes out of his jeans in favor of sweatpants, but he leaves on the henley.

Will comes out wearing flannel sleep pants and the dress shirt he was wearing before, now hanging open over his bare torso, and it’s basically more obscene than if he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. He has _abs_ , like a lot of them, and that’s something that Derek could have survived not knowing about the guy who he’s forced to spend the next 12 hours with.

Derek clears his throat and waves his iPad. “More Bake Off?”

“Yeah, we gotta finish that episode.”

Derek slides over to the other side of his bed, making room, and Will stretches out next to him. He considers, briefly, putting the iPad on the bed between them but rests it on his thighs again instead. Will crowds close, and Derek starts the episode while trying to ignore the fact that he can feel the heat of Will’s arm through their shirts.

Will is a little fidgety as they watch, shifting his weight and twisting around, and every brush of his body against Derek’s is torturous. He moves his leg up a little, bending his knee so that it leans against Derek’s, and how exactly is Derek supposed to handle this?

The episode ends, and they both fall silent as the Netflix countdown starts. Will shifts again and turns onto his side a little bit, toward Derek. “Man, this show makes me hungry.”

“Dude, I was thinking the exact same thing. Room service?”

Will laughs. “Really?”

“We are _stranded at O’Hare_. If there was ever a time we deserved an overpriced dessert, it is right now.”

“True,” Will admits, and he reaches over to pause the episode while Derek gets up to fetch the little book from the desk.

He flips through until he finds the dessert section, which is distressingly small. “Okay, the options are cheesecake or chocolate fudge cake,” he reads, and Will’s mouth twists.

“Um…I vote chocolate fudge cake.”

“Oh, good, that’s the correct answer.”

Will laughs. “What would you have done if I’d picked cheesecake?”

“Ordered the fudge cake anyway and not let you have any.”

“Wow, harsh.”

“You’re closer to the phone, you order.”

Will makes a face and kicks him in the leg but obeys. “20 minutes,” he reports after he hangs up, and Derek nods.

He starts the episode again, but they aren’t watching as closely anymore. They talk a little bit, about Boston and sports teams and college, and eventually Will clears his throat.

“Is there, like, a, uh,” he coughs again, “a significant other in Boston?”

Derek flicks his gaze over, but Will is stubbornly looking at the screen. He just barely retains the ability to bite back a smile. “No, there’s not. Why could you ever be asking?”

“You’re the worst,” Will says with a huff, even though he’s smiling. His cheeks are a dark pink now, the flush extending down his neck to the top of his chest, and Derek lets himself grin. It’s adorable, and there’s a shot of pure joy flowing through Derek like water, and it’s so easy to lever up on one elbow, lean over, and press his mouth to Will’s.

Will kisses back immediately, which is gratifying, and wraps his hand around the nape of Derek’s neck to hold him close. The kiss is soft, exploratory more than anything else, and Will’s stubble rasps gently against his skin.

“Me neither,” he murmurs, mostly into Derek’s mouth. “Obviously.”

“Good,” Derek replies. He shifts, bracing a knee in between Will’s for balance as he hovers over him, and slides his free hand up Will’s chest. He pulls back enough to brush his lips over Will’s jaw and tugs playfully at the edge of his open shirt. “And what the fuck even _is_ this, honestly, you look like porn.”

Will makes a displeased noise and tugs him back down, until Derek’s hand is caught awkwardly between them, pressed again Will’s skin. Then they’re kissing again, deeper and harsher than before, and Derek would be 100 percent thrilled to stay here and keep doing this for the foreseeable future.

But Will is twisting away, breaking the kiss, and Derek is maybe a little bit embarrassed by the plaintive noise that comes out of his mouth. Will smirks at him a little bit, so he definitely heard it, great, and slides his hand up Derek’s arm to curve around his bicep.

“Just—this isn’t like…a _thank you_ for letting me stay here, or anything. Just want to make that clear.”

“Oh, so you’re saying I could have negotiated that?” Derek asks, grinning, and Will smacks him on the arm.

“The _worst_ ,” he says emphatically, but he reaches up to press their lips together. Derek’s covering him now, on his hands and knees, and he drops down to one elbow to bring them closer.

He sneaks his hand inside Will’s shirt again, palming at the ridges of his abs. His skin is hot, even against the warmth of Derek’s hand, and his heartbeat thuds hard and fast under Derek’s fingers when he slides up to his chest.

“I can’t believe you—”

Will cuts himself off, deepening the kiss again, and Derek abandons the strong planes of his chest in favor of curling a hand around Will’s jaw.

“What?” Derek asks, but Will just makes a little noise into his mouth and shakes his head before pushing him away, mostly gentle.

Derek watches curiously as he fumbles through the sheets—presumably for the iPad, he realizes after a second, which got lost in their shuffling.

“I can’t, like, do _this_ with Paul’s voice in the background,” Will says, and Derek laughs. He shifts his weight back onto his knees to give Will more room. “Shit, where is it?”

Derek feels around in the sheets, then peeks over the side of the bed. “Oh, it’s here, I got it, hang on.” He bends down to pick it up off the floor, Will’s hand tight on his leg. “What, no crush? You aren’t into the accent?”

Will grimaces. “Ugh, no, please stop talking about him.”

“Gladly.” Derek closes Netflix and snaps the case shut before tossing it onto the other bed.

Will sits up against the headboard, so that Derek’s mostly perched on his lap, and brings his hands immediately up to his waist, slipping under the him of his shirt and skirting the edge of his sweatpants. His hands feel fucking huge, and just the light, warm touch is enough to make Derek shiver. He responds by getting his own hands on as much of Will’s skin as he can, sweeping down his neck and curving over his shoulders under his shirt and thumbing across his ribs.

A sharp knock on the door startles them both, and Derek nearly avoids smacking Will in the face as he loses his balance. “Shit.”

“That’s the cake,” Will says softly, his fingers wrapped around Derek’s wrist, and Derek has to blink about 10 times before he remembers what’s going on.

“Right.” There’s another knock, and he scrubs a hand through his hair as he scrambles off the bed. “I’ll get it, I look more presentable than you.”

Will rolls his eyes but sinks back into the pillows with a luxurious stretch. He looks, just, _unfairly_ good, and Derek stares for a second.

“The door,” Will prompts him, and Derek shakes his head to clear it.

“Right.”

“And there’s cash in my wallet,” Will says, pointing to the dresser, “for a tip.”

Derek pats at his hair and tries to make sure he looks decent, not like he just had his tongue down someone’s throat, but the young guy at the door looks like he couldn’t care any less. He’s probably seen worse, Derek figures.

He signs the bill and hands over a five from Will’s wallet while the guy wheels the little cart just inside the door. “Thanks, dude,” Derek says, but he just gets a distracted nod in response before the guy is gone again.

He sets the tray on the desk and takes a peek under the cloche. “It smells really good,” Derek admits. “Orgasm or cake?”

He looks over his shoulder, and honestly, no one should look that good in shitty hotel room light. Will lifts an eyebrow and looks right back. “Orgasm _then_ cake.”

Derek nods. “Correct answer, again. Just checking.”

He puts the cloche back down, with more care than is really necessary, and tries to take a surreptitious deep breath. Because all of a sudden he’s weirdly nervous, more than he was before. Is this going to be awkward now? For as much as he feels like he knows Will, for as much as he likes him, they’re basically strangers who have known each other for under four hours. And it’s been a long time since he hooked up with a near-stranger.

What if he actually isn’t that great in bed? What if _Will_ isn’t good in bed and the whole thing is awful and they’re stuck spending the night together?

“Are you okay?”

Shit.

“Yep,” Derek says, too fast to be convincing, and sure enough, when he turns around, Will is leaning up on one elbow, frowning.

“We can—stop, obviously. We don’t have to do anything. We can just, like, eat cake and watch more Bake Off. Or I can leave, that’s no big deal.”

“No, I definitely want to,” Derek says because that’s absolutely true. “Well, all of that. Besides you leaving, I mean. But also, you know, the sex.”

Will isn’t frowning anymore, but he still doesn’t look convinced. “You sure?”

“I just, uh, get too wrapped up in my head sometimes,” Derek admits, his face immediately flooding with heat. He’s not used to—well, he definitely didn’t mean to say that.

“We can talk about it,” Will offers easily, and he looks so genuinely concerned that the tight knot of nervousness in Derek’s chest relaxes. He strips off his shirt, tossing it on the desk chair, and crawls back onto the bed.

“Or we can _not_ talk about it.”

Will laughs and sweeps his hand up Derek’s back. He carefully slides Derek’s glasses off and sets them on the nightstand, and Derek exhales. “Or we can do that. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I promise.” Derek arranges himself on his side and tugs at Will’s arm. “C’mere, kiss me some more.”

Will rolls over, tangling his legs with Derek’s, and obeys. His hand is wonderfully firm, warm pressure against the back of Derek’s neck, and he lets himself sink into it, pressing their mouths together again and again until his lips feel partly numb.

Will moves away, kissing down Derek’s jaw, and Derek licks his lips. “I know I said I didn’t wanna talk about it, or whatever, and I don’t, really, but…sorry. About before.”

Will bites at his collarbone, just a little nip, and then kisses the same spot.

“For what? There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Derek swallows. He should be concentrating on Will’s mouth, dropping open-mouthed kisses as he makes his way up Derek’s neck, but he just wants to get this _out_.

“I just—don’t do this a lot, you know? Hook up with strangers. Not that you’re a _stranger_ , I mean, but well…you kinda are.”

Derek can feel Will’s laugh vibrate through his chest, where their skin is pressed together, and it makes him shiver.

“I kinda am,” he admits. He’s up to Derek’s ear now, worrying at the delicate skin just below and Derek exhales as he tilts his head to one side. “But I mean, I get it. I’ve only had sex with like, three people.”

Derek’s happy that Will’s face is mostly hidden because his jaw definitely drops. It’s not like Derek has someone in every port, or whatever, but _three_. Wow.

Apparently his lack of response is a response in and of itself, though, because Will props himself up and looks down at him. “What?” he asks, his voice carefully even.

“Nothing.” Derek thinks about it for a second and grins. “Am I allowed to be flattered?”

Will rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Aw. You like me.”

“Unfortunately,” Will agrees, but he’s smiling.

Derek smiles back, and then they’re just smiling at each other like idiots. Will kisses him again, and Derek arches up against him, the anticipation and desire shooting all the way down to his toes. Derek’s hard, and he can feel that Will is too, a thick, hot line against his hip. Will presses down, better aligning them, and Derek tries to meet his rhythm without breaking the kiss or his grip on Will’s arms.

After a few more mindless thrusts, Derek groans. “Shit. I don’t, uh, travel with lube or anything,” he says, and Will laughs.

“Me neither. But it should be okay, I—” His voice chokes a little, and Derek looks up with interest at the splotchy blush on his cheeks. “I get, uh, pretty wet. Especially if it’s—”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek interrupts. “Especially if it’s what?” he asks, smug, and Will gives him a little stink eye.

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” Derek says dryly, as he slides one hand down the back of Will’s pajama pants to pull him down harder. “Wow, no underwear. Cocky.”

“I _told_ you I was low on laundry.”

Derek gets out half a laugh, but he’s more preoccupied with the soft, firm skin of Will’s ass under his fingers. He slides around and traces the cut of Will’s hip all the way down.

“Okay?” he asks, just to be sure, and Will nods before capturing his lips again. Will’s hot and hard in his hand, and Jesus Christ, just like he said, so wet. Derek strokes up once, rubbing his thumb over the head, and slides back down as he tries to spread the wetness around. “Especially if it’s good, right? That’s what you were gonna say?”

Will just groans, his forehead pressed against Derek’s, and thrusts down into his hand. Derek tightens his grip and matches his pace with Will’s hips.

“That’s what you were gonna say,” Derek says confidently.

Will shifts his hips forward even farther, and Derek gets the hint, twists and curves his hand down to cup Will’s balls. He presses down hard on the sensitive spot just behind, and Will jerks in his grip, his choked-off groan loud in Derek’s ear.

Derek strokes twice more and then extracts his hand from Will’s pants. “Wait, hang on.”

“What,” Will gasps, already breathing hard.

Derek shoves at Will’s pants, until they’re halfway down his ass. “Off, c’mon. Your shirt, too.”

Will balances on his knees and shrugs off his rumpled, wrinkled shirt—Derek hopes that wasn’t what he was planning to wear tomorrow. Derek drags his eyes away long enough to focus on squirming out of his own pants and boxers, and when Will slides on top of him again, they’re both finally, gloriously naked.

Derek’s brain is kind of spinning, with all the touching and the kissing and the possibilities, but it latches on when Will’s dick, still practically dripping, bumps against his. Derek circles them both with his hand, squeezing, and Will lets his breath out with a rush. He’s holding himself up, trying to get the angle right, and Derek wastes a good 30 seconds just staring at the flexed muscles of his arm.

“Please,” Will says finally, thrusting into the loose grip of Derek’s hand, and Derek tries to get his act together. Will’s face drops into the crook of Derek’s neck, his breath hot on his cheek. “Fuck, yeah, like that.”

Derek wraps his other hand around the back of Will’s neck, sliding up into his hair and tugging a little. “C’mon, Will.”

He tightens his hand again, going faster, and Will’s whole body tenses in his arms half a second before he comes with a faint curse and a deep shuddering breath right in Derek’s ear.

He finally pulls back a little, dropping down to Derek’s side and pulling him into a messy kiss. Will’s hand slides down his chest, skating through the mess already on his stomach, and replaces Derek’s hand on his dick with his own. His hand is _better_ , warm and just unfamiliar enough to be really good.

“How d’you—” Will mumbles into the kiss, and Derek arches up into his grip.

“A little— _fuck_ —a little tighter.” Will goes for looser instead, and Derek bites at his lip. “Fuck you, c’mon.”

Will laughs a little but obeys, and then it gets _really_ good. Too good, almost, and Derek bites his lip.

“A little slower.”

“Trying to draw this out?”

Derek’s eyes have fallen shut sometime in the past few minutes, but he can _hear_ the smile in Will’s voice. “Maybe. Shut up.”

“Am I allowed to be flattered?” Will asks, and Derek groans.

“Don’t mock me while you’re, ah, jerking me off. Not nice.”

Will speeds up again, and Derek can feel the heat pricking at his skin, sweat collecting behind his knees. Will’s kiss, deep and lush, takes him by surprise, and Derek gasps into his mouth as he comes all over Will’s fingers and his own stomach. Will groans and keeps stroking until Derek bats his hand away, making Will collapse down over him.

“Fuck.” Derek’s mouth is dry, and he licks his lips. “Jesus.”

Will murmurs something similar, and after a few minutes, pries himself off of Derek. He’s heavy, but Derek misses the weight anyway.

He isn’t sleepy, not really, but he’s tired and sated, down to his bones, and he lets his eyes slip closed. The normal, domestic sounds of Will moving around the room—a zipper opening, the faucet turning on—are soothing, and Derek yawns. His body feels glued to the bed, pretty much, and he’s not moving until he’s forced to.

“Hey. Sleeping beauty.”

Derek pries his eyes open and takes in Will standing next to the bed. His pajama pants are back on, hanging low on his hips, and he has a washcloth in one hand and a plate of chocolate cake in the other.

Derek blinks. “Wow.”

Will snorts and holds out the plate. “Hold this.”

Derek sits up a little, then takes the plate and holds it above his chest while Will wipes down his stomach. The washcloth is damp and warm and feels amazing, and Will pulls the blanket up over him when he’s done.

“Five star service over here.”

Will tosses the washcloth in the general direction of the bathroom and climbs over Derek into bed. “You can put it on the comment card.”

“Oh, I will.”

“There’s only one fork,” Will says.

“That just means we get to be cute.” Derek takes a bite and groans. “Holy shit, that’s good,” he murmurs, then holds out another forkful for Will. He rolls his eyes a little but obediently leans forward and eats it.

“That is good,” he admits, and they slowly work their way through the rest of the cake.

“So I realize that we’re doing things a little backward here,” Will starts, carefully scraping the last of the whipped cream off the plate, “but do you wanna get dinner when we’re back in Boston?”

Will holds out the fork, and Derek grins as he takes the bite. “Sure. We’ll just do sex, then dessert, then dinner.” He moves the plate to the nightstand and curls up against Will’s side. “I had this bitch of a flight delay, though, and I don’t get in until around 1. Does that work with your schedule?”

“Yeah, I think I can make that work.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥ (I'm on [Tumblr](http://leslieknopeismyshiningstar.tumblr.com/).)


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